Escape From Zombee Island
by K.S. Reynard
Summary: While on a mission to trace a mysterious source of energy in a Zoness archipelago, the team is suddenly shot down and captured - all except for Slippy. On an island bristling with danger, the amphibian must rescue his fellow teammates from the island's demented "emperor" before he can enact his devilish plans for them. Rated T for graphic stupidity, among other things.
1. Chapter 1

_AUTHOR'S NOTE(S):_

 _Okay, I'll just preface this right off the bat to make it clear: this story is really, really stupid. Let me explain...  
_

 _Earlier in 2016, Sheppard Studios hosted a contest for humorous oneshots, and before I started working on the story that I eventually entered (it did win 2nd, so it may have been a good idea), I started putting this abomination together before I cancelled it due to it being so unspeakably dumb that it was an insult to my own intelligence._

 _However, seeing that it was getting close to Halloween, I figured I could repurpose it for the holiday and put it out there. Anyone who likes the kind of inanity in this story should probably check out my story_ Sierra Foxtrot, _which contains content similar to this, albeit not_ quite _as idiotic.  
_

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 _-_ § _-_

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The rain beat against the four Arwings' canopies as they sped over the vast Zoness ocean, en route to their target – a clandestine volcanic island that General Pepper claimed had been giving off some 'strange' energy signatures. The two patrols sent to investigate said signatures had disappeared without a trace; and not wanting to risk any more of his own men, he assigned the task to Fox, who accepted on behalf of his team with some hesitation.

In the distance, the central volcanic peak that marked the center of the suspicious island came into view. Through the driving rain and the mist that enveloped the ocean, it vaguely resembled a haunted warship poking through the ocean waves. Although none of Star Fox's four pilots said anything, an air of fearful trepidation hung over each of them. That is, until Slippy noticed a previously opened bag of cheese puffs to his right and dropped several of the yellow-orange snacks into his mouth.

Slippy's cheesy crunching filled Fox, Falco, and Krystal's headsets with disgusting clarity that allowed them to hear the slimy smacking noises that went along with each crunch.

With a deadpan voice, Fox asked, "Slippy, are you seriously eating cheese puffs in your Arwing again?"

"Myep," Slippy mumbled, his mouth full of yellow crumbs. You gwot a pwobwem wiff vhat?

"Yes, I do," Fox replied, exasperation in his voice. "Two scout groups have already disappeared in this area. This is serious business, Slippy. Now, team – before we get any closer to the island, do any of you have any problems with your Arwings?"

"Yeah," Falco grumbled, "My G-diffuser's acting funny again."

Fox sighed. "Well, tell it that it needs to shape up and start acting serious."

"Very funny, Fox. You know, you don't have to be such a tight-ass about this. All we've got to do is fly over the island a few times; and if we see anything, we'll land and check it out on foot. Seems simple enough."

Krystal's voice came over the team's headsets. "I'm afraid it's not going to be that easy. I'm sensing faint thought patterns from that island. I have a bad feeling about this."

Slippy finished munching his cheese puffs and asked, "What kind of thwooot patterns are they?"

Krystal let out an indignant gasp and retorted, "Hey! Stop making fun of my accent!"

"Your _occent?_ " Slippy chuckled.

"Seriously, Slippy – stop it," Krystal demanded. "And for the record, I can't tell what kind of thought patterns are coming from that island; but they feel like…"

"Like what, Krystal?" asked Fox.

"I don't know. I can't pick up anything that makes sense – it's all garbled. The only thing I'm hearing that sounds like anything is 'brains.'"

"Yep. We're dealing with zombies here," Slippy declared. "Lucky for us, I'm the resident zombie expert. I even have a badge to prove it. Don't worry, gang – I've got this."

Fox cut him off. "Slippy, shut up. Zombies aren't real. They only exist on TV so that people can fantasize about the end of the world without having to pin the blame on other people groups. There's got to be a _real_ explanation for this."

"I still say zombies," Slippy mumbled.

As the team drew closer to the island, its natural formations and geography came more clearly into view. Lush jungles covered the ground. Wherever trees were absent, swamplands stood out. A snaking river split the island in two, and the only way across it seemed to be a rickety rope bridge. On the side of the central volcano – complete with smoke rising from the top, Fox spotted a tiny opening and a barely distinguishable dirt pathway leading up to it. In addition, four gray buildings stood near the base of the volcano. From their appearances, they seemed to have been built within the last year.

"There's definitely something down there," said Fox. "Let me contact General Pepper and find out what he wants us to…"

Suddenly, all of the electronics in all four Arwings failed in unison. Their engines fizzled out, their avionics systems went blank, and all control vanished. With no power, the fighters dove towards the ground, racing towards the forlorn island at a breakneck speed. None of them heard each other's screams, but all four members of Star Fox could feel the panic of their fellow teammates. As the tree canopy grew large in his sights, Slippy closed his eyes and waited for the end.

\+ 0 +

Slippy's eyes wavered, trapped between the darkness of unconsciousness and the grim light of the rainy Zoness day. The driving rain pelted against the reinforced glass surface nearby. At that moment, he remembered what had happened and snapped his eyes open. He found himself wedged into his Arwing's cockpit on the forest floor with massive trees surrounding him in every direction. The glass in his canopy bore a spiderweb crack, which only began to describe the damage to his Arwing in general. As before the crash, none of his electronics activated when he reached for them. Fortuitously, his fighter had landed right side up, because otherwise, he could have easily been killed in the crash.

The realization dawned on him that he was alone. He looked around at the forest through the water beads on his canopy and saw nothing indicating the presence of his teammates. He took a deep breath. Then, he pulled the manual release lever for his canopy and clambered out of the Arwing. He swung his stubby legs over the frame where the glass had released, but his feet slipped on the side of the craft. He plummeted all of six feet to the ground, landing with the sickening crunch of broken bones.

Fortunately, the broken bones did not belong to him – rather, they belonged to a large constrictor snake that had the misfortune of being in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time. Slippy's overweight figure crashed down butt-first onto the reptile's long body, snapping innumerable bones and paralyzing it. For a second, Slippy thanked his lucky stars that there had been a cushion for his landing before he realized what he was sitting on. With a shriek, he leaped up, banging his head on his Arwing's smashed aileron.

His head spun for a moment, then normality returned; and along with it, the grim reminder that he was on his own in zombie-infested, hostile territory. At least, he wanted to believe that he was in zombie-infested territory. Looking over the wreckage of his Arwing, he realized that he would have to find another way off the island. He pried open the small cargo hold on the side of the nose cone and pulled out its contents – a black ballistic handgun with three fifteen round magazines, a water canteen, a small backpack, and a bag of cheese puffs.

He scanned the area, then shoved the handgun and its holster onto his belt, with the backpack and its contents finding a spot on his back. Then, the volcano at the center of the island emitted a deep, throaty rumble that shook the ground and the trees nearby. When the sound of the rain had reclaimed its spot as the loudest thing in the area, a high-pitched squeal filled the air.

"Testes, testes! 1,2!" a shrill, grating voice shouted, the sound coming from a distant set of high-powered speakers that created an annoying echo throughout the forest. "A-ha! Welcome to my island, Slippeh! Oh, don't be surprised that I know your name. After all, if I'm intelligent enough to lure you to my _impenetrable fortress_ and get my dirty little fingers on your precious teammates, I'm more than smart enough to know who you are! Or, I could have just read the Arwingpedia page, but I digress. B…b…but anyway, I bet you're wondering what I'm doing with your friends now that I have them in my grasp. They're definitely not locked away inside my volcanic stronghold in the 'special detainment area.' No sir…definitely not there. Oh – I've gotten sidetracked once again. Silly me. You know, I'd _love_ to explain what I'm going to do to your teammates, but that would spoil the surprise. Hmm…you know what? I'll make you a deal – I'll tell you all about it if you can survive the Forest of the Flying Dead, filled with a thousand little surprises that'll brighten your day even more! Now, good luck! Toodle doo!"

The obnoxious voice cut out with another ear-splitting round of feedback, then the speakers went silent.

Slippy shook his head. _"I guess that explains what happened to the others. At least I know where they are now. I just have to get to that volcano. But what did that guy mean by 'Forest of the Flying Dead?'_

As if on cue, an ominous humming filled the air, rising above the sound of the falling rain. In the distance, a swarm of large bees lazily buzzed towards him. The sound of their wings, however, bore little resemblance to that of traditional bees. No – not at all. In this case, it sounded more like 'brrrrrraaaainnnnzzzzzz.'

He saw the angry insects bearing down on him, dodging the raindrops with freakish precision. His eyes widened. He looked down and saw the paralyzed python at his feet. He had an idea. He reached down. He started too many sentences with 'he.' He grabbed the python by the tail and lashed it upwards, twirling it around like a whip. When the snake whistled in the wind, he unleashed it and threw it towards the swarm. The large serpent tore through the bees, splattering a third of their ranks.

Slippy's eyes widened again. He had only managed to anger the zombees even more. Setting aside their attempts to dodge the rain, the bees picked up speed and roared towards him.

He took off running into the nearby forest, racing between the trees in hopes that the giant bees would somehow be unable to follow him. A glance over his shoulder confirmed his fears. The insects continued to bear down on him. He doubled back and headed north, towards the central volcano. He recalled seeing the river that split the island in half and wondered how he would be able to cross it without being swarmed by the zombees.

Suddenly, he had a brain wave, as the Brits call it. As the sound of 'brrrrrraaaainnnnzzzzzz' grew louder in his ears, he pulled his backpack over his shoulders and unzipped it. His fingers rifled through the pack until they found the bag of cheese puffs stored within.

" _Everybody loves cheese puffs – even Krystal,"_ he thought.

The bees continued to pick up speed.

Slippy opened the bag.

The bees grew closer.

Slippy dug his right hand into the bag, grasping a handful of cheese puffs. Then, he tossed them over his shoulder at the zombees, not looking back to see if it had any effect. To his amazement, the bees swarmed around the discarded snacks, hovering over them and collecting the golden cheese as if it had been honey from the gods.

Panting from exertion, Slippy broke through the trees and found himself standing on the bank of the river that split the island in half. Ahead of him lay a rickety rope bridge, precariously held together with two thick strands of rope that looked both rotten and corroded from years of abuse – even though the other buildings on the island looked far newer than that. Interesting…

On cue, the distant speakers squealed again, this time more loudly than before.

"Oh! I see that you have pacified my zombees. Most impressive, I do say. Buuuut, I'm afraid that you'll come no further. You see, that rope bridge in front of you has a strict weight limit of 'less than you weigh, fatty!' I dare you to step on that thing. Do it! Oh – I bet that you think that since you're a frog, it's no big deal if you fall in the water, right? Well, I've got news for you! That river ends in a two hundred foot waterfall! Good luck surviving that, Slippeh!"

Slippy's eyes wandered to a set of smooth stones that stuck out from the surface of the raging river, conveniently arranged in a straight line with only two feet between each of the rocks. While the annoying voice continued to rant, he hopped across the stones and set foot on the other side of the river.

"Hahaha! You'll never approach me! Why, I'm…WHAT?! Dammit! Ooh – you're going to regret that, because now I'ms abouts to gets seriouss. Watch…your…back…Slippeh…"

Having crossed over the river, Slippy saw the massive central volcano reaching into the skies in the distance. Over a half mile separated him from the mountain where his teammates were being held; but before he could reach it, he knew that he would have to pass through the quadrant of buildings in front of it. The concrete structures acted as a makeshift camp, with a narrow dirt road running between the two buildings on the right and the two on the left. Searchlights stood on both sides of the path, and in the distance, Slippy saw the fuzzy, faint outlines of armed guards.

The trees began to grow more and more sparse as he neared the camp. Then, the speakers blared once again. This time, the volume level seared Slippy's ears, forcing him to cover them.

"Say, I made a promise, didn't I? Well, since you thwarted my zombees and crossed my insurmountable rope bridge – well actually, you cheated, but I don't judge – I think you've earned the right to know what I'm going to do with your teammates. For starters, the bird – I think I'll pluck out his feathers one by one and use them to stuff my handspun silk pillowcases. For the lovely Krystal, I shall dress her up in revealing outfits and force her to pose in compromising positions. Then, I'll click off a few pictures and upload them to my DeviantArt page! HAHAHA! What do you think of that, Slippeh? Oh – I almost forgot about you. Let me see…I'm simply going to kill you since no one likes you and because you don't seem to be good for anything other than letting your guard down. Oh, and putting up those stupid shield meters for enemy bosses when it would be just as easy to shoot their obvious weak points until they blow up!"

Slippy gritted his gums – as if that was technically possible – as the speakers powered off. His eyes followed the dirt path at his feet, all the way up to the four-building compound. Thanks to the ever-present commentator and his military grade speakers, Slippy knew that every guard in the area would be looking for him. In fact, he felt surprised that none of them seemed to be hunting him down at the moment.

He examined the area around the compound. Thick trees shrouded the sides – too thickly for him to have a prayer at passing through them. He considered the possibility of flanking the forested area itself, but the more he looked at his situation, the more he realized that passing through the compound was his only option.

His eyes scoured the area for anything that could be used as cover or as a diversion until he saw it—a soggy cardboard box with the top peeling off. Nevertheless, it looked intact enough for use. Looking ahead at the compound, he darted across the dirt road and grabbed the box. The side displayed the logo of a child's red wagon. Why that was on this island, he had no idea; but at any rate, he saw a minuscule window of opportunity for slipping—hehe, get it? Because his name's Slippy? Yeah, that was dumb—past the guards.

He crouched, then pulled the box over himself and began his slow journey towards the compound. Never before had two hundred yards never seemed so long. He figured that by the time he would reach the compound—let alone sneak past the guards—Falco would be bald and Krystal would be wearing a transparent fishnet tank top. Actually, he rather liked the idea of that.

For a moment, Slippy wondered what had become of Fox. The ever-annoying owner of the island's ludicrous speakers had yet to state what he planned to do with the vulpine, although Slippy had a feeling that his fate would be worse than Krystal's if he failed to rescue him in time.

Only able to see out of his cardboard box through the tiny hole intended for use as a grip point, he stumbled along the muddy road. Then suddenly, he hit something.

"GWAAA!" he shouted, attempting to stand up but bringing his box with him. Unable to see anything, he wobbled around, reaching for the sides of his box in a pathetic attempt at removing it from his upper body. As he flailed, he accidentally stepped over his own legs and fell on his side with the box still over his head. A small puddle of mud splattered up as he fell onto the dirt road.

At that moment, feminine laughter broke out nearby.

Furious and ready to strike, Slippy yanked the box off of himself and stood up, only to find himself face to face with a pearl white feline with light purple fur accents that failed to look even remotely natural. The woman wore a rain-soaked gray uniform identifying her as a member of one of the Zoness-based teams that had been sent to the island before Star Fox had. However, the cat's uniform hugged the contours of her body far more closely than it had any right to. In fact, Slippy wondered how she had managed to put it on in the first place, or rather, how the Zoness military ever allowed her to have it.

Probably fanservice. Yeah, definitely fanservice.

Undeterred by her appearance, Slippy looked towards the four-building compound and asked the woman, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"My name's Bianca," the feline replied, giving her soaked, violet-dyed hair a quick toss. "You must be 'Slippeh.'"

"Yeah, well, close enough," Slippy grumbled.

The volcano in the center of the island let out another deep rumble that shook the island to its core, although the resulting tremor did no damage. Bianca looked up into the rainy sky, then explained, "The rest of the team I was part of is dead. I've got to get off this island, but the boss's skeleton guards are too much for me to take care of by myself. Can you help me?"

Slippy placed his hands on his hips. "I might be able to help, but my first priority is to rescue the rest of my team from whoever owns this place."

Bianca's face drained of color, even though it was white to begin with. I'm not really sure how that works in a furry story, but it's a standard literary description trope, so whatever. "It's not worth it," she insisted with a shake of her head, "They're probably dead already. Emperor Kalamalazuma is a cutthroat bastard."

Suddenly, the island's speakers erupted into ear-searing sound once again. "A fact that I take great pleasure in! I'm sure you'll find out what I mean soon, Slippeh!"

"Kalamalazuma? What kind of stupid name is that?" Slippy asked Bianca.

"I don't know," Bianca whined, "I just need to get out of here. Please—anything you can do to help would make me so happy."

Slippy looked off to the side and placed a finger on his lips. "Hmm…I'll tell you what—if you help me free my teammates, I'll do everything I can to get you off this island. Deal?"

"Deal, but I telling you—they're dead already," Bianca answered. "I think know where to find a back entrance to Kalamalazuma's lair. I saw it and was about to go in earlier, but then the skeleton guards saw me and I had to run for my life. If you can help me take care of them, we might be able to get in."

"Okay," said Slippy. "What's the plan?"

"How about you distract the guards while I run past them? Then, I'll hit them from behind."

Slippy frowned. "Uh huh. So I'll be your meat shield, huh? Nice."

"Do you have a better idea?" Bianca retorted.

"Well, no…"

"Good, then. It's settled. Let's move!"

Before Slippy could protest, Bianca jogged towards the four-building complex. Between the buildings, four skeletons marched in symmetrical lines that looked pre-programmed. Two of them carried baseball bats as their weapons, while the other two held rusty swords that, while dull, still looked like something that Slippy did not want to be speared with. Even when Bianca stepped to within a hundred yards of the complex, none of the skeletons reacted to her.

Slippy sprinted to catch up with Bianca and came to a stop beside her. "Um…why aren't they attacking us? We're right here."

"I don't know," Bianca answered. "But when they do attack, they're almost unstoppable."

"Oh, great. That gives me _so_ much confidence," Slippy remarked.

Taking a quick breath, Bianca sprinted towards the closest building—a square, concrete shack to the right of the main dirt road. "Protect me, Slippeh!"

"No, wait! Stop!"

The instant Bianca neared the first building, all four skeletons locked onto her and raced towards her with bats and swords raised high. Inexplicably, each of them screamed out a battle cry despite being, well, you know, skeletons.

Slippy shook his head in disbelief. Nevertheless, he had his end of the deal to hold up. He pulled his pistol out of its holster on his waist and took aim at one of the bat-wielding skeletons. A shot rang out from the gun, and a single bullet sped towards the skeleton. The bullet screamed through its cranium, emerging on the other side with almost as much momentum as it had before. The first skeleton's head blew apart, and the rest of its body fell to the ground in a pile of bones. The bullet, unimpeded by the headshot, crashed into one of the sword skeletons' sternums and shattered it. The undead mass of bones split in half, only for both its legs and torso to sprint and crawl towards Slippy.

"AAA!" Slippy screamed, suddenly losing all composure and running towards one of the concrete shelters to the left. The noise attracted the attention of the other two skeletons and diverted them away from Bianca. The courageous heroine that she was, the feline took the opportunity to run for her life between the four buildings.

The two remaining skeletons gave chase, bones clicking and splatting against the muddy ground. Cursing his stubby legs, Slippy ran for dear life. Up ahead, he saw the volcano looming large above him. A steep, grassy slope led up to it. Bianca raced up the slope, then turned to the left towards a narrow path leading downhill towards the nearby beach.

"Come on! This way!"

"That doesn't look like the way into the volcan…"

Slippy lost the ability to finish his sentence when out of nowhere, a red wagon piloted by another skeleton barreled down the grassy hill towards him, literally flying over the bumps on the slope. He figured that the red missile had to be traveling at least thirty miles an hour. He had no time to leap for cover. But he did have time to jump. Two feet of air was all that his short frame could provide him with.

It was not enough to avoid the incoming skeleton wagon.

The wagon screamed between Slippy's legs, but the skeleton's skull slammed into Slippy's nether region. Strangely—or not strangely at all—it had little effect on him. Landing on his feet with a splash on the saturated grass, he pursued Bianca.

Then, he looked down.

The skeleton's severed head sat between his hands, glaring at his face with hollow, nonexistent eyes.

"AAAAAAAAAA!"

He hurled the skull over his shoulder like it was a nuclear hot potato. Then, he looked over his shoulder to make sure he had properly disposed of it. Just before it left his vision, the skull righted itself on the ground and stared at him once again.

" _Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit."_

Limbs flailing, he barreled down the narrow trail in pursuit of Bianca until the path ended in a beach interspersed with black rocks. Bianca stood on the beach next to a rickety wood canoe lay that lay just out of reach of the tide. When Slippy moved towards her, the feline shoved the boat into the waves and climbed into it.

"What are you doing?" Slippy shouted.

"Can't you see? We have to get out of here! It's the only way!" Bianca replied from the boat.

Slippy took a look towards the all-seeing volcano, then responded, "You said you'd help me save my friends! You tricked me!"

"I'm doing you a favor! Come on! Get in! Those skeletons will be on the beach any second now!"

The amphibian paused for thought. Then, he hardened his expression and declared, "No—my friends need me."

Looking back at him as if he had broken her heart, Bianca screamed, "Forget your friends! They're already dead! This is the only way out of here!"

Slippy crossed his arms. "Nope. Good luck out there, traitor."

Bianca shook her head before she turned the canoe around and started paddling out to sea. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath.

From the beach, Slippy kept his arms crossed and watched as Bianca's canoe floated farther and farther from the shoreline until over a hundred feet separated it from him. Then, a colossal shark leaped out of the water to the right of the canoe, its mouth agape with rows of razor sharp teeth. The gargantuan fish arced over the top of the boat before splashing into the water on the other side with hardly a ripple. When Slippy looked at the canoe again, he saw no trace of Bianca.

Then, the island's ear-rending speakers screeched to life again. This time, due to Slippy's proximity to the volcano, he felt his head throbbing in pain as the sound waves scorched his eardrums. "HAHAHA! What a buffoon! She should have known that there is no escape from the great Emperor Kalamalazuma and his unassailable island fortress! What do you think of _that_ , Slippeh?"

"I think you need to turn your speakers down!" Slippy yelled.

"What was that? _Up_ , you say? Okay, then." The speaker operator reached for volume knob and cranked it to the right—so far to the right, in fact, that every breath he took echoed through his microphone and blasted the airwaves outside with a wall of feedback.

Cringing, Slippy covered his ears. This had to end.

He looked up the hill where he had come from and saw a small, black hole in the side of the volcano. It looked just large enough to be an entrance. He stopped for a moment to ponder his options, but the screaming feedback playing through the speakers ended the pondering in the blink of an eye. Yelling at the top of his lungs, he sped up the hill towards the entrance. As he retraced the narrow uphill trail, the two skeletons that had been chasing him appeared in his path.

As if he did not even notice them, Slippy barreled through the tiny gap between them. The skeletons swung their weapons at him, but instead of hitting him, they hit each other. Both skeletons crumbled into bone piles, unable to pursue the panicking frog any longer.

Slippy charged up the grassy hill towards the distant entrance with boots sloshing water in all directions. After a minute, he reached the top of the hill and stopped short of the black hole in the side of the volcano. The entrance looked just barely tall enough for a normal person to fit through.

He crept inside, ready for anything because he figured that just about anything that might have been considered remotely conceivable would be lying in wait for him.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

_AUTHOR'S NOTE(S):_

 _It only took two years, but it's finally finished.  
_

* * *

To Slippy's surprise, when he entered the volcano, he found himself in a hallway with a vaulted ceiling. Obsidian made up both the walls and the curved roof. Chandeliers made of bones with candles hung from the ceiling, and for some inexplicable reason, backlit stained glass windows decorated the walls far above him. Every one of the mosaics displayed a regal-looking lemur wearing a bath robe and a crown so overblown that it looked comedic.

Slippy's feet walked along a long, red carpet that seemed far too nice for the locale. He noticed the muddy footprints that he had tracked in from outside, but instead of cringing, he took pride in vandalizing the island owner's property and decided to wipe his feet on the carpet as vigorously as he could. However, as he quite literally soiled the carpet, he failed to notice the attackers coming from above.

From the innumerable enclaves in the obsidian walls, hordes of bats descended upon him, shrieking and chirping like they would in a Halloween B-movie.

"GAAAA! My eyeballs!" Slippy screamed, swatting at his head and whacking three of the flying creatures out of mid-air.

Overwhelmed by the flying vampires, he shoved his goal of rescuing the rest of the team to the back of his mind and darted around the hallway looking for any kind of door. Then, to the left, he saw a wooden entrance and smashed through it, breaking the lock in the process. The instant he cleared the door frame, he skidded to a stop and slammed the door shut with his back.

He took five seconds to calm himself and then looked around the room which he had entered. The only light inside came from another bone chandelier, which hung over a white bed which was occupied by a familiar blue vixen lying on her stomach. She looked much the worse for wear. For starters, her combat jumpsuit was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she wore an outfit imitating her provocative _Adventures_ garb; and the look on her face made it clear that she did not enjoy it. As if to drive home the point, Slippy noticed two camera tripods positioned around the room, although the cameras themselves were nowhere to be seen.

When Slippy moved towards her, Krystal lifted her head and gazed at him with sorrowful eyes. "Slippy—you have to help me," she whimpered.

"What happened to you?" Slippy gasped, jogging towards the bed.

"He made me wear this dreadful outfit and made me do horrible things with my staff."

"Oh—uh, what kind of things?"

Krystal shook her head in humiliation and replied, "I don't want to talk about it." Her expression suddenly changed to reflect a burning hatred for Emperor Kalamalazuma. "…But I do want to shove it up his arse."

Not used to hearing Krystal speak with such vehemence, Slippy stared at her and backed up to the door. "Um…you'll get your chance. Come on—we need to find the others. Do you know where the Emperor took them?"

"Falco is close. I can feel his thought patterns. Fox is somewhere nearby as well, but I can't pinpoint his location," Krystal answered, sliding off the bed before she grabbed one of the two camera tripods and hurled it against the wall. "Damn you to blazes, Kalamalazuma! I swear—I will find your camera, and I _will_ smash it to pieces and force feed it to you!"

"Y…Yeah, okay," Slippy stuttered, opening the door and taking a cautious step forward. "Watch out for the b…AAAATS!"

In the blink of an eye, the ravenous, bloodsucking creatures in the hallway descended upon him, swarming around his head. He swatted at the horde, but for every bat his fists struck, five more joined the legion. He felt their teeth sinking into his green flesh as their shrieks filled his ears.

Then, when doom seemed inevitable, a ball of fire exploded above his head, bathing the swarm of bats in flames. The creatures scattered, their wings lit ablaze with unquenchable fire. In seconds, each and every bat fell to the ground, all of them reduced to smoldering husks with skeleton wings.

In shock, Slippy turned around to see Krystal standing in the doorway, holding her staff with an expression of pure hatred on her face. Given her weapon and outfit, she looked more like a tribal warrior princess than a pilot. "Let's find Falco," she growled. "I feel that he is in considerable pain."

The duo searched the hallway, which contained numerous doors. However, after knocking on every one of them and getting no response, they realized that Falco was being kept elsewhere. Slippy scanned the hallway, looking for a ladder or stairway that would lead to another area inside the volcano. After half a minute, he noticed a set of obsidian steps leading downwards. Pistol in hand, he crept towards the stairs with Krystal behind him.

As they descended, the light grew dim to the point where sight became difficult. At the bottom of the stairs, they turned right and entered a narrow hallway built under the first. Unlike that one, the second hallway was noticeably shorter. Even though the volcanic fortress seemed like a prison in general, this hallway looked more like a brig than the previous area did. Three doors stood on each side of the hallway, and four dimly lit torches acted as its only sources of light.

"I feel Falco's presence. He's very close," Krystal stated. "He's behind the second door."

Slippy nodded before creeping up to the aforementioned wooden door and knocking on it.

A second later, Falco's incensed voice shouted, "Go to hell, you freak! I swear, I'm going to find those feathers you stole from me and stab your eyeballs with them!"

Slippy giggled, but only for a moment. "Hey Falco, it's me—Slippy. I broke Krystal out. We're here to help you escape."

"Heh," Falco sneered. "Good luck with that. This door's lock is so good that even the emperor's key doesn't work on it."

"How is _that_ supposed to be a good lock?" asked Slippy, scratching his head. "What did he use to open it?"

"I dunno. He got one of his minions to open it for him. I didn't see how he did it," Falco replied.

Still furious from the emperor's evisceration of her dignity, Krystal bared her teeth and snapped, "If you can't get this door open, I'll burn the blasted thing to the ground with my staff."

Slippy waved her off, having thought of a less exuberant solution. "Not just yet. I think I might have figured this out."

"What is it?" Krystal asked, eyeing the lock—an ordinary rounded doorknob with a lock slot in the middle of it.

Without a word, Slippy reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up, accidentally releasing a mountain of unused coupons and fast food receipts which floated to the floor. Tinges of red appeared on his face until he yanked out a credit card—actually an expired, partially used gift card to a home furnishings store that he almost never visited—and held it up to the door.

"You know, the credit card trick doesn't work anymore. Door locks have gotten better since the '70s," Krystal opined.

Undeterred, Slippy slid the gift card into the tiny gap between the door and the jamb. "What are the '70s?"

"Never mind," Krystal groaned, burying her face in her hand. "I'm just saying, this isn't going to work."

"Says you." Determined to prove the scantily-clad vixen wrong, Slippy slid the card into the tiny crack between the door and the frame. He jiggled the knob while shuffling the card around in the door jamb until he felt something. With a sense of triumph, he gripped the knob and yanked the door open.

Inside, Falco sat in a wooden chair, looking dejected and hopeless despite having just been rescued. While Krystal stood in the doorway, Slippy jogged up to him and asked, "What's wrong? Do you want me to shut the door again and leave?"

Falco shook his head.

"What's the matter, then?"

" _This_ is the matter," Falco snapped, standing up and turning his back to Slippy. He pointed to his behind—specifically, where his tail feathers protruded from. Or more accurately, _used_ to protrude from.

"Oh gods and goddesses," Krystal gasped.

"I'm tailless!" Falco shrieked. "That bastard lemur guy is going to pay for this!"

Despite Falco's grief and Krystal's shock, Slippy found the development slightly humorous. However, because he did not want to incur Falco's towering rage, he suppressed a giggle and asked, "What did he do with your feathers?"

"That's the worst part. He said he was going to stuff his pillows with them! Can you believe it? His friggin' _pillows_."

"Actually, I can believe that," Slippy replied.

"Oh, well fine, then. Screw you," Falco griped. "Let's get out of here and find that obnoxious son of a bitch. Last time I saw him, he was dragging Fox along."

Krystal bit her lip. "Oh, I hope he's all right."

"Yeah, probably not," Falco replied. "I have a feeling something _really_ screwed up is happening wherever he is right now."

"Then let's go. I can tell that he's close, but I can't pinpoint where he is. This whole island is messing with my telepathy!"

Slippy put a finger on his lips. "It must be the zombees."

"Oh get a grip, Slippy!" Falco retorted. "Enough with you and your stupid zombies, already!"

The amphibian shrugged. "Hey—I mean, I had to get past them to get to you, but whatever. Believe whatever you want to. The zombees are real. I know their weakness, though."

A sarcastic smile appeared on Falco's beak. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Cheese puffs."

Falco practically exploded in laughter. "Seriously? What kind of crap is this?"

"The same kind of 'crap' that brought us where we are now," Krystal countered. "I hate to say it, but Slippy might be right."

Rolling his eyes, Falco said, "Well, whether he's right or not, we've got two things to do. (1. Save Fox. (2. Find this 'emperor' guy who's running this island and kill him—preferably in the most painful, embarrassing way possible. Now that we're on the same page, Krystal: can you tell where we need to go to find Fox? Also, that outfit is bangin'. You should wear that more."

The vixen's aquamarine eyes temporarily lit up like a blaze of fire. "Why you perverted scum… The only reason I ever wore this to begin with is because my clothes from my ruined planet were destroyed when I landed on Sauria. It was either I wear this or go around naked—and trust me: that was not an option."

"Why not? It's not like the dinosaurs would have cared. Besides, it would have probably given Fox even more motivation to get you out of that crystal. Plus, that would have made for a smoking hot video game."

"Hey, pervert—unlike you, I have standards!" Krystal shouted before she darted forward and kicked the uncouth avian between the legs. "Now come on—let's save Fox!"

Keeling over in pain, Falco dropped to his knees and gasped out, "Don't leave…without me…"

It was no use. Slippy and Krystal darted out of the room, leaving Falco to himself while his wounded manhood throbbed in pain. After a minute of agony, he stood up and sprinted out of the room. Fortunately for him, his long legs and athletic physique made catching up to the others easy. After ascending the stairs to the main floor, he noticed a previously-unseen hallway on the left side of the main floor's atrium. He heard Krystal and Slippy's footsteps echoing down the corridor, so he ran into it and saw his two teammates up ahead. The new hallway lacked light, but in the distance, an ominous red glow emanated from whatever lay at the end of it.

To his surprise (and Slippy's), Slippy managed to outpace Krystal, sprinting ahead of both her and Falco as the red light at the end of the tunnel became more clear. While running, Slippy glanced upwards and noticed a massive portcullis that had been hoisted upwards.

" _Ooh, I've got a bad feeling about this."_

As if he knew that it would happen, the instant he cleared the metal apparatus, it dropped from the ceiling with a mighty clang. Unable to react in time, Krystal slammed into it and fell backwards to the floor. In the blink of an eye, the blue vixen vaulted to her feet and gripped the bars of the portcullis with desperation and fear in her eyes. "No! Why now?! We were so close!"

Slippy stopped running and turned to face his teammates, now stuck on the other side of the bars.

"You have to take care of this on your own, Slippy," said Falco. "We'll try to find another way in, but I have a feeling this is the only way to get to Fox. Make us proud, okay?"

Slippy shed a fake tear and wiped his eye, then responded with a thumbs up. While Krystal and Falco looked on, he marched further down the hallway. As he neared the end of the long, black corridor made almost entirely out of obsidian stone, the red light in the distance washed over every surface around him. After two more minutes of walking, he emerged from the tunnel and found himself standing at the entrance to a massive atrium.

In mere seconds, he realized that said atrium had been built into the core of an active volcano. He looked up to confirm this, and to his horror, he saw the distant mouth of the volcano above him. A circular concrete platform stretched out in front of him and functioned as the room's 'floor', with bubbling magma flanking its edges.

A variety of implements surrounded him. In particular, he noticed several computer consoles along with a pair of rudimentary winch systems. Starting at the winches, two long, metal cables ran upwards towards the right and left edges of the concrete platform. Slippy's eyes followed them until they stopped with a pair of metal cages that hung from scaffolding mounted to the sides of the volcanic cone. And in those cages…

Fox gripped the bars of the cage on the right side of the atrium, while in the one opposite him, a large gray lupine growled and hopelessly attempted to extricate himself from his prison.

Eyes wide, Slippy called out to his team leader, but his voice was drowned out by the sudden burst of noise coming from an area above and to the left of Fox's cage. Slippy locked onto the source of the commotion: A white grand piano inexplicably suspended from a third cable thirty feet above the concrete platform. Seated on a matching white piano bench was the source of all of Slippy's woes. A tall, lanky ringtailed lemur, Emperor Kalamalazuma pounded on the keys of his piano with surprising alacrity. As in the stainglass portraits of him in the main hallway, he wore a red bathrobe and a massive gold crown.

At that particular moment, however, Slippy could only focus on the music as it blasted from inside the piano. As if that had not been bad enough, the Emperor himself began singing a completely incoherent stream of words.

"I'm a swan, big cherries – filet mignon, magic cheese!

I'm a bong, smoke dat weed – big limon, giant fleas!

Sephiroth! Da da du du du de de de, dun dun! Sephiroth! Da da du du du de de de!"

Slippy cringed. This musical travesty could not continue. Forming a natural bullhorn with his hands, he shouted, "Wow—you went through the trouble of putting this whole island together and you can't even write your own theme song?"

Kalamalazuma stopped playing and turned his head towards Slippy. Then, he suddenly shifted in his seat and leaped for the floor. He landed with a graceful roll that somehow did not displace his gaudy crown. "I may not be able to write my own epic theme music, but there is something that I _can_ write."

Slippy put his hands on his hips, unfazed by the demented leader of the island. "What's that?"

"Fanfiction," he cackled, rubbing his hands together. "You see, this is precisely the reason I have brought both your precious leader and his eternal 'rival' Wolf O'Donnell to the same place. After I deal with you, I will unmask your leader's hidden gay streak and his secret longing for Wolf. The emotional struggle will be immense, as Fox realizes that his prior affection for Krystal was a lie and as Wolf understands that only Fox can truly love him. All the while, I will chronicle their journey together. I'll embellish and overdramatize the dull bits, then I will unleash it upon the interwebz for all Lylat to see! I'll break viewcount records! I'll get 200 favorites in 2018 alone! I'll be hailed as the greatest fanfiction author in the whole Star Fox archive! But then, as my fame grows, I'll suddenly disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. All my fans will be distraught while wondering what could have been."

He giggled while continuing to rub his hands together.

Slippy's eyes narrowed. He pointed a finger at Kalamalazuma. "Listen here, Kalamalahoohah—the Lylat System's already read enough bad yaoi. I already know half your plotline. If I remember correctly, Wolf had a hand in killing Fox's dad, so something tells me he's not going to be interested in taking it up the butt from him."

From the cage hanging to Slippy's right, Fox bared his teeth and affirmed, "Never!"

Kalamalazuma shook his head, an amused look on his face. With a shrug, he held out his hands and commented, "You should never say 'never.' You know, statistically speaking, saying that you'll never do something makes it much more likely that you'll end up doing it in the end. So, by your dear leader claiming that he would never engage in a glorious sexual endeavor with his suppressed true love, he really means that he'll eventually come around, thereby giving me entire novels' worth of white-hot erotic material. What do you think of _that,_ Slippeh?!"

Slippy frowned. "I think you need to work on your interior decorating."

"Wha?" Kalamalazuma balked, looking around for anything that even remotely resembled an interior decoration. While his eyes circumnavigated the volcanic chamber, Slippy drew his handgun and took aim—but not at the regal lemur in front of him. Rather, he centered his pistol's sights on the rope suspending Kalamalazuma's white piano from a hook far above him. With zero hesitation, he pulled the trigger.

Kalamalazuma shrieked and leaped into the air. He patted himself down looking for a gunshot wound, but to his shock, he felt no pain. He seemed perfectly fine.

Until he looked up.

"AAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Slippy's perfectly placed bullet severed the rope holding the piano up, causing it to plummet to the ground. Caught directly in the drop zone and unable to move in time, Kalamalazuma covered his hands with his head and sustained an ear-searing C5 screech that caused both Fox and Wolf's fur to stand on end. Then, the piano smashed into the ground with a dissonant clang, crushing the lemur underneath its weight. After four seconds, all became silent except for the constant bubbling of the volcano in the background.

Slippy blew on the tip of his handgun, even though it was not smoking or even hot, for that matter. "Suck on that, Jamie Hyneman."

Seconds later, Fox called out from inside his cage, "Hey Slippy! Can you get me out of here?"

"Hey! What about me? You're not just going to leave me here, are you?" Wolf shouted from the cage on the opposite side of the chamber.

Slippy glanced at the winch controls on the left side of the concrete platform and darted towards them. "Okay, okay—hang on a second." Using his mechanically-oriented mind to his advantage, he identified the two hydraulic levers controlling the winches holding the cages up and carefully lowered them to the ground. The metal prisons clanged against the floor. Slippy's eyes darted across the operating console, looking for the keys for Fox and Wolf's cages. However, in the process, he noticed a special unmarked button. Being curious, he pressed it.

Nothing happened. At least, nothing _apparent_ happened.

After pressing the useless button, Slippy noticed the two cage keys hanging on a small protrusion on the side of the winch control console. He snatched them up, then jogged over to Fox's cage. With a quick turn of the latch, the door swung open, and Fox walked out. The instant he set foot on the concrete platform, he threw his arms around Slippy and squeezed him for a solid ten seconds.

"W…Whoa—was not…ready…for…that," Slippy wheezed, just as Fox let go of him. "Was it really that bad?"

"You have no idea. That guy was crazy."

Slippy shrugged. "I could have told you that."

Both pilots' attention shifted towards the entrance to the volcanic cone. They turned towards it in time to see Falco and Krystal running towards them.

Fox nudged Slippy. "Why is Krystal wearing that?"

The amphibian shook his head. "You don't want to know."

"But I _do_ want to know."

"Nope."

In mere seconds, the rest of Star Fox stepped onto the concrete lava platform. Falco stopped next to Slippy, but Krystal kept running until she reached Fox, at which point she tackled him to the ground and proceeded to smother his muzzle with affectionate licks.

"Whoa, Krystal—I'm glad to see you too, but can you save it for later?" Fox gasped out while trying to avoid falling into a giggling fit caused by Krystal's tongue tickling his whiskers.

"Ahem," another voice called out from behind the group.

Krystal looked up and locked eyes with Wolf as he clutched at the bars of his cage. "Are you going to let me out, or would you prefer to keep making out in front of all of us? Yeesh."

Fox took the opportunity to roll out from under Krystal and rise to his feet. He stared at Wolf and crossed his arms. "Why should I let you out?"

Wolf sneered. "Are you kidding me? You're really just going to leave me here?"

"Well, maybe," Fox replied. "We're trying to get out of this place, and the last thing we need is someone we can't trust following us around."

"Hmph," Wolf grunted. "Good luck finding the Emperor's landing pad, then. I saw it when that freak dragged me in here. Just saying."

Fox gritted his teeth and looked at his teammates. None of them said anything, although Falco and Slippy shrugged. After a moment of deliberation, Fox turned back to Wolf and said, "Fine. I'll let you out; but you'd better not pull anything."

"Hey, look pup—I want to get out of here as badly as you do. Leon and Panther are probably going crazy looking for me right now."

"They're not here?" Fox asked, tilting his head.

Wolf shook his head. "Nope. That 'emperor' guy kidnapped me while I was on Fortuna. It was a setup."

"I can't even believe…well, on second thought, I actually can. Slippy, hand me the keys."

Slippy nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out the key to Wolf's cage. Fox took it and inserted it into the lock on the door. Seconds later, it swung open with an ear-grating creak. Wolf stepped out the instant the opportunity presented itself.

"Thanks. Now follow me."

Fox stopped in his tracks and put his hands on his hips. "Are you _sure_ you're not about to lead us into one of that Emperor guy's deathtraps?"

Wolf spun around, anger in his eyes. "Are you kidding me? I don't have the time to betray you right now! We've got to get out of here!" Not giving Fox or any of Star Fox's other members the time to protest, he took off running towards the volcanic cavern's exit, waving for the others to follow him.

Fox, Falco, Slippy, and Krystal sprinted after the swift lupine, whose long legs and natural athleticism (or whatever kind of witchcraft made him so freaking fast in _Assault's_ multiplayer) allowed him to pull out a significant lead. The team ran through the long tunnel leading back into the mountain fortress's main hall and passed the raised portcullis, which thankfully did not descend this time.

Upon reaching the end of the hallway, the four found Wolf standing near the left wall, arms crossed and tapping his foot on the floor. He pointed towards a hidden side door and said, "Come on already! It's this way! There's a set of stairs that leads to the landing pad. It's built into the side of the mountain."

The lupine smashed through the door and entered the stairwell with Fox and his team behind him. Their collective footsteps clattered and echoed through the vast stone stairwell, built with an ascending spiral design. The only illumination in the vertical shaft came courtesy of wall-mounted torches that gave the stairwell an eerie glow. The stairs seemed as though they would never end.

At what felt like the penultimate level of the staircase, new sounds joined the fray. Slippy recognized them instantly. The disturbing clacking noise could only have come from Kalamalazuma's skeleton guards, no doubt investigating the sudden noise in the stairwell despite the fact that they had no ears. Slippy opened his mouth to warn the others, but before he could speak, three skeletons rounded the stairs and came into view.

Wolf, at the head of the group, made no attempt at stopping and smashed through one of the skeleton soldiers with his lowered right shoulder. The undead mass of bones crashed to the surface of the stairs and scattered into innumerable fragments. The skeleton soldier dropped his rusty sword in the process, and Fox wasted no time in picking it up. New weapon in hand, he decapitated the second skeleton before it could use its spear. The headless skeleton wobbled about, causing the last skeletal soldier to crash into it. Both skeletons crashed to the stone stairs in front of Krystal, Falco, and Slippy, who trampled over them. The sound of bones snapping and crunching reverberated through the stairwell.

Just as the four began wondering how many more stairs they would need to climb, the stairwell came to an end. At the top was a solitary wooden door with one torch on each side of it. Wolf stood in front of the door, twitching from impatience. In all honestly, Fox appreciated Wolf's willingness to wait for him and his team when it would have been easy enough for him simply to run ahead of them, steal an aircraft from the landing pad, and leave them all stranded on the mysterious, haunted island.

Nodding, Wolf opened the door, which led into a series of tight, twisting stone hallways. Using his memory, he navigated his way through them—although this time his paced slowed due to his uncertainty of the landing pad's exact location. Several times, he led Fox and his team into dead ends; but after five minutes of sheer determination, he located another wooden door, which when opened revealed a twenty-foot set of stairs built into a small, open-mouthed cave that marked the edge of the volcanic peak.

"That 'Emperor' guy landed his ship here when he brought me to the island. It might still be here," said Wolf, his voice reflecting a tinge of optimism.

Standing behind Wolf, Krystal shook her head and whispered, "Something is wrong."

The others glanced in her direction, their body language becoming suddenly stiff. All became silent.

Then, Fox spoke up. "We can't go back, though—this is the only way out. Let's move."

Wolf nodded in agreement and set foot onto the stone steps. He saw the dim light of night radiating in from the mouth of the small cavern, mere feet from the top of the stairs. He recalled from the moment that he had first arrived on the island that a stone landing pad stood mere feet from the top of the stairs. The exposed landing area led directly into the covered alcove that he and Fox's team found themselves in at the moment. Once they reached the top of the stairs, they would only need to walk twenty feet before they could reach the Emperor's transport ship.

The lupine glanced at the wall and noticed a large absence of light in the shape of a spacecraft's shadow. He smiled. Escape was close at hand. The transport was still positioned on the landing pad.

At last, the five reached the top of the stairs. As expected, the transport awaited them—but so did something far more disheartening.

"HAHAHAHAHA! You thought you'd seen the last of me? You fools! There is no escape from Zombee Island!"

To Fox, Wolf, Falco, Krystal, and Slippy's horror, Emperor Kalamalazuma stood in front of the transport, brandishing a massive rocket launcher with enough power to reduce both them and the entire cavern to eviscerated chunks. The lemur looked unharmed, as if being crushed by his own falling piano had done nothing to injure him.

With Wolf and Star Fox too stunned to speak, Kalamalazuma continued his monologue. "I see you are incapable of comprehending my overwhelming supremacy and are thus rendered speechless. But I do not judge—I would feel the same way in the presence of such a mighty power as myself."

Krystal's face contorted into a furious snarl. "I'm going to sodding kill you, you bastard."

Kalamalazuma grinned. "No, I'm afraid that you are sadly mistaken. All of you will turn around this instant and return to my volcanic control center, or I will fire this Demon Launcher at my feet, killing all of you as well as myself and destroying the alcove into which this landing platform is built.

"Are you nuts?" Falco snapped.

Fox nudged the avian and whispered into his ear, "I thought that was obvious."

Ignoring Fox, Kalamalazuma shrugged and replied, "I have labored for so long and made so many sacrifices just to bring you all here. I will not allow my plans to be foiled! I will keep you here for eternity even if it kills me!"

"Oh no," Krystal whimpered, leaning on Fox for support. However, even he struggled to keep his composure. Wolf stared at the ground, knowing that no matter what he did, he would never be able to escape from the wretched island—forced to provide fodder for the Emperor's yaoi fanfiction fetish for as long as the demented lemur demanded it. Falco merely glared at Kalamalazuma, hopeless hatred in his eyes.

Slippy, however, stood resolute. Gathering his courage, he took a single step towards Kalamalazuma, putting himself at the head of the group. The lemur reacted immediately, moving his finger to his massive launcher's trigger and taking aim at him from essentially point blank range.

"Come now, Slippeh," the lemur chortled, his toothy grin refusing to dissipate. "What do you have that could possibly stop me from finally accomplishing the sum of all my hopes and dreams?"

Slippy gave no response. Instead, he casually reached into his pocket, feeling around inside for what he had stored inside. A split second later, his green hand closed around a single, orange object. Pulling out his last cheese puff, he casually tossed it towards Kalamalazuma. The cheesy snack bounced on the ground once and came to rest at the Emperor's feet.

The lemur burst into hysterical laughter to the point where he gripped his launcher with only one hand while clutching at his chest. "HAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHA! _This_ is how you're going to stop me? I can't even believe it! You truly _are_ useless, Slippeh! What could you possibly be thinking?"

Kalamalazuma stomped on the cheese puff with his bare foot, crushing it with no effort.

"You fool. I admit—I am impressed by your ability to get your friends this far, but this charade ends now. Back to the control room!"

Slippy stood in place, his determined eyes locked with Kalamalazuma's.

"You heard what I said! Move now, or everyone goes bang bang!" the lemur shouted.

Falco nudged Fox and whispered, "Is it just me, or do I hear something?"

"I hear it too," said Wolf.

"My thought patterns—I can't comprehend any of it," Krystal lamented.

Once again, Kalamalazuma yelled, "Confound it! Move already!"

Unmoved, Slippy pointed towards something off in the distance and commented, "You might want to look behind you."

The lemur hazarded a glance over his shoulder, but saw nothing. "What are you talking about? Why, there's nothing there! Stop stalling alrea…"

" _Brrrrrraaaainnnnzzzzzz"_

Kalamalazuma's eyes widened. "What? What's going on?"

" _BRRRRRRAAAAINNNNZZZZZZ!"_

The sound grew louder with every passing second, causing Wolf and ever Star Fox member except Slippy to take a nervous step backwards. Kalamalazuma turned around completely and stared out at the expanse beyond the landing pad. In the distance, he saw a mass of flying specks growing closer—and louder—by the second.

"No! Not the bees! Go back to the forest where you belong!"

" _ **BRRRRRRAAAAINNNNZZZZZZ!"**_

The mass of giant, undead bees swarmed towards the landing pad, diving towards the platform at top speed. In terror, Kalamalazuma dropped his launcher and covered his face as the insects drew nearer. "Why me? Why are you doing this? Stop! I demand it!"

Of course, the bees did not listen. Beckoned by the succulent scent of the crushed cheese puff particles on his foot, the swarm descended upon Kalamalazuma, stinging, biting, and ripping apart flesh in a gory display. The fallen emperor screamed at the top of his lungs as the bees' tearing mandibles dug into him, intent on consuming their new host until nothing remained except for a pile of lemur bones.

At that moment, Fox saw his chance. "Everyone, move! Get in the transport! We're getting out of here!"

None of the others needed any coaxing. The five sprinted around the edges of the undead swarm and vaulted into the wedge-shaped transport ship parked on the landing pad that protruded from the mountain. Fox climbed into the pilot's seat and started the craft's ignition sequence, while Wolf claimed the co-pilot's seat to his right.

Fox's fingers flew over the ship's controls, bringing its various flight systems online. The craft's engines spooled up in seconds, their powerful howl filling the cockpit and causing the entire frame to vibrate. Fox glanced at Wolf, then at the teeming horde of zombees swarming around their tormentor and captor. As morbid as being dismembered by giant bumblebees seemed, Fox felt that he deserved such a fate.

A grim, victorious scowl on his face, Fox lifted the transport off the landing pad. The rush of air from the liftoff scattered the zombees in all directions as Fox turned the spacecraft around and headed west, in the general direction of the _Great Fox's_ orbital position.

At long last, Wolf, Fox, Falco, Krystal, and Slippy felt a sense of overwhelming relief wash over them. No longer would they need to worry about what kind of demented plot Emperor Kalamalazuma would cook up next. The only concern at the moment—in Fox's mind, at least—was what to do with Wolf after he and his team exited Zoness's atmosphere. However, even that decision seemed stress-free compared with the events of the previous few hours.

Wolf's voice brought his thoughts back to reality. The lupine gazed at him, traces of fondness etched into his muzzle. "Thanks for letting me escape, pup. I owe you one."

Fox glanced back at his rival and forced a smile to his lips. "No problem, Wolf. Thanks for helping us get out of there. And now…" he trailed off, looking upwards, "…It's time to leave this planet."

He pulled upwards on the flight yoke. Nothing happened.

"Huh?"

"What's wrong?" Wolf demanded, his fur suddenly standing on end.

"The stick—it's not working," Fox replied, moving the reluctant lever back and forth to no effect. "I don't know what's going on here."

Wolf glanced at the instrument cluster in front of him and panicked at what he saw. "Fox, our speed's way down! Something's seriously wrong!"

All traces of color fled from Fox's face. "You've got to be kidding me."

Confirming Wolf's statement about an extreme loss of speed, the transport angled downwards, towards the vast tree canopy below. Due to the craft's altitude, over a mile separated it from the ground. However, it picked up speed quickly and began hurtling towards the trees.

Fox clenched at the flight stick with all his might and jerked it in all directions, begging with the stubborn piece of equipment to obey his command and force the craft to level out.

"Come on, you stupid piece of…"

He gave the stick one last violent yank backwards, at which point the stick snapped off in his hand.

Wolf stared wide-eyed at the broken stick, then at Fox. "Forget about everything nice I just said. You are dead to me."

At that moment, the sound of radio static filled the cockpit. Then, the most unwanted voice of them all reported from the cabin speakers.

"HAHAHAHAHA! You think _bees_ are enough to stop me? Better luck next time! Don't even try to beg for mercy—I'm done with you this time."

"Give me back control of the ship, you sicko!" Fox screamed at the dashboard.

"Hmm, I think not," Kalamalazuma laughed. A second later, the ship's engines abruptly kicked back on. The only problem was that the craft was already plummeting towards the ground at terminal velocity.

Amidst bouts of uproarious laughter, the Emperor shouted, "Engines at full power! Ramming speeeeeeeeeed!"

From the area of the spacecraft behind the cockpit, Slippy stared through the front view-panel and realized that this time around, survival was impossible. He glanced at his fellow teammates—Falco and Krystal—then at Fox and Wolf at the front of the transport. The ground approached so quickly that he had no time to formulate additional thoughts.

* * *

\- § -

* * *

Back in his bed in the _Great Fox_ , Slippy awoke with a gasp. He touched his face and neck and realized that both were covered in sweat. As the seconds passed, his heartbeat slowed—but it remained rapid compared to its normal resting rate. He blinked twice, recalling the strange, vivid dream he had just experienced. Every aspect of it felt so real, even though he realized that undead bumblebees do not exist, skeletons cannot hear, cutting through a rope with a single pistol round is virtually impossible, and building a fortress inside an active volcano is the pinnacle of stupidity.

Cheese puffs, however, did exist—and he recalled that a bag of them resided in the ship's galley. Curious about the time, he rolled onto his left side, hoping to catch a glimpse of the timekeeping device on his nightstand.

But something blocked him. Instead of spotting his alarm clock, he found himself staring into a pair of glowing, orange lemur eyes.

"There is no escape, Slippeh."

* * *

And that was how the loudest scream in the history of the universe was recorded.


End file.
